


Comments

by hamish_adler_holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fanfiction, First Kiss, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, This has probably been done before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:50:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamish_adler_holmes/pseuds/hamish_adler_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds links to fanfiction sent to him by a fan, and reads it.  Sherlock follows suit, and it leads to...well.  [shit at writing these, sorry.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/johnxlock)
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://iamsherlockedwatson.tumblr.com/)

John was used to strange comments on his blog. He had to approve them before they were visible to everyone, and he only rarely posted the ones from fans. Most people contacted him through email, and he noticed one very persistent reader. He was getting emails and comments from the reader, and they were all the same thing.

_ **\--"John! First off, love the blog. You guys never fail to make me laugh or cry or--well. Anyways. Please read this? It's a little something I wrote. Also, here are some things friends and followers of mine have written. Enjoy! xx"** _

  
John usually ignored these but after the same message showed again for the third week in a row, and it had been happeneing every day for the three weeks, and it was starting to get on his nerves. He almost wrote back an angry response, but he took a deep breath. He clicked the link and siged as a site loaded.

  
"What the hell is Archive of Our Own?" he said to himself, tapping his fingers on the table. That's when he saw the information box.

  
 _\--"Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/ John Watson"_

  
What.

  
He bit his lower lip, debating. Did he really want to read this?

  
Why the hell not. Sherlock was on a case and he had sent John home after he had almost fallen asleep standing up. He, of course, needed no sleep, so John called a taxi and went home, falling asleep within seconds of sitting in his chair. He woke with a crick in his neck the next morning with a text from Sherlock informing him that Lestrade had brought him back to the Yard, where the information was more easily attainable. After some tea and a few biscuts, he decided to update his blog. There, once again, was the fated link. Now, John was sat in front of the screen, about to read fanfiction about himself and his best friend.

  
He scrolled down to the title. "No Longer the Virgin".

  
John's heart stopped in his chest and he let out a choked laugh. He could already tell where this was--wait, virgin?

  
He knew that people disliked Sherlock, and that he had struggled in his childhood the same way he did now. Never knowing when to shut up was a constant struggle with the detective. But how did other people know he was a virgin when John himself didn't? Even for John, who lived with him, it was just speculation. Not that he would ever bring this up to Sherlock.

  
"Probably just for the sake of the story." He took a deep breath and scrolled down to the start of the story. Within minutes he was blushing furiously. Not that he wasn't..grateful to the author for giving him such wildly bizarre proportions, it did wonders for his ego, but when those were put into contact with his flatmates also wildly bizarre proportions...well. He felt the heat on his face and a strange urge to giggle as he scrolled farther. The story itself was well written, the plot based loosely on one of their cases. But this was definitely not something that happened behind closed curtains.

  
 _"Sherlock moaned John's name, his head thrown back and full lips wet where he licked them, and his hand gripped tightly into John's hair. "Yes! John, oh, right there, yes!" John licked slowly up the detectives long member-"_

  
John slammed the laptop shut, his face burning as he laughed. He couldn't believe he had read as far as he had, and he was almost embarassed. He turned to make tea and let out a yelp so loud he fell. Sherlock was stood right behind him, his hand on the back of the chair. Somehow, John hadn't noticed. Sherlock had one eyebrow raised and he was now looking just as shocked as John, who was still on the floor clutching at his chest and gasping.

  
"For Christ's sake, Sherlock, a little warning!" he gasped, standing slowly. His elbow hurt where it had hit the floor, but he wasn't going to let on. Sherlock opened the laptop, and John slapped his hand away. "Can't you use your own?"

  
Sherlock eyed him and he flushed a darker red, snagging the laptop from the table and taking it with him to his room. Sherlock didn't follow, but when John went back downstairs he was in the same place. He was staring at the spot where John's laptop had been, squinting at the table like it was going to tell him something.

  
"John..." he started, then cleared his throat. "John, what was that?"

  
John swallowed. "Something a reader sent me. They've been sending me the links over and over and I decided I might as well check it out. Definitely not what I was expecting."

  
Sherlock nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door to his bedroom. John stood there for a moment then let out a shaky breath, moving into the kitchen. He set the kettle up to boil and cleaned up a bit, picking up papers form the floor and tossing them onto the table. He got two mugs from the cupboard and poured one for himself and one for Sherlock, then took the mugs and hurried down the hall. The mug was warmer than he had anticipated and his hand felt like it was burning, and he struggled a bit with the doorknob as he walked into Sherlock's room.

  
"Oi, Sherlock, want a--" he stopped in his tracks. Sherlock had his laptop in front of him and John recognized the red symbol in the corner of the tab. He almost dropped the mugs. "Sherlock, are you reading fanfiction?" His voice cracked up a few octaves and he cleared his throat, setting one of the mugs down on the side table.

  
Sherlock nodded, snapping the laptop shut. "I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Really, it's not that strange. People need something to make themselves seem interesting so they write sexual stories about their favorite celebrities--" John choked on his tea at the words. He laughed and wiped his face.

  
"Sexual stories? Sherlock, this was more like...a fantasy." He flushed again.

  
Sherlock stared at him. "Why is this affecting you so much?"

  
John shrugged, trying to act more nonchalant. The truth was, this was something he thought he would enjoy. Multiple times he himself had thought about what happened with the two of them if they took their platonic relationship to another level. He lived in the constant fear that Sherlock would read it on his face, and that he would have to explain his crisis about his sexuality. John had experimented in high school, as many people had, but he also knew that he swung more towards men. He only bought women back to the flat, for fear that he would make Sherlock uncomfortable. That didn't stop him, however, from going out with men that he didn't ever bring home. Sherlock never said anything, and John felt almost sure that he knew nothing.

  
"It's just...I don't want things to become...awkward between us." He looked into his mug so he wouldn't have to meet Sherlock's eyes. It was quiet for a moment, then he heard Sherlock move. Still John didn't look up, until a larger hand covered his own and took the tea. He glaned up, eyes wide, and met Sherlock's eyes. He was much closer than John had anticipated, but he held his ground.

  
"Why would it make things awkward?" Sherlock asked, his voice low and husky. John swallowed loudly. "I know, John. You're bisexual. You didn't want me to know. But what you failed to see, no matter how many times I flaunted it at you, is that I am attracted to you." He said this so matter of factly, as if it meant nothing. But John's heart was pounding.  
Sherlock stepped closer, his eyes on John.

  
John couldn't feel his hands.

  
Sherlock leaned in, his eyes never leaving John's face, and one hand went to the shorter man's waist.

  
John gasped at the feeling of Sherlock's hand on him and leaned into the kiss, like a plant to sunlight.

  
Sherlock gasped against John's eager mouth and they kissed, softly at first but with a building urgency. John's hand moved into Sherlock's curls and he held the man closer, his mouth working furiously against Sherlock's and he felt himself getting dizzier but he couldn't pull away. It was Sherlock who broke the kiss, lurching away as he gasped for air. He was staring at John, his eyes wide and his pupils huge. "I have wanted to do that for a very long time, John Hamish Watson." He smiled almost shyly and John giggled. He actually giggled.

  
"Sherlock, you have no idea." He closed the gap and pressed another kiss to Sherlock's full lips, but this one was sweet, soft. He pulled away and smiled up at the detective. "I've been wanting that for a while, too." Sherlock smirked--damn the bastard, of course he would smirk--and pulled John close. John relaxed into the warm embrace, his face in the soft fabric of Sherlock's expensive shirt.

  
"I take it we aren't telling the fans about this, though."

  
"Hell, no." John answered, smiling up at Sherlock. He caught sight of Sherlock's hair, tangled beyond help and his lips swollen from kissing, and he leaned in again, effectively ending any conversation for the night.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does some research and finds out about AU's.

The next day, John woke up with Sherlock wrapped around him. He stayed there for as long as he could before he actually had to leave. After showering and making himself a cup of tea, he checked in on Sherlock. He was still sleeping. He rarely slept but when he did, he was completely out. After a quick check in the fridge--and some truly horrible finds--he decided he had to run out to the shops and pick up more food. With one more glance and smile for Sherlock, he left.

  
When he returned, arms full of bags, he saw that Sherlock was awake. He was in front of his computer, typing furiously and mumbling to himself. Every now and then he would stop and scroll and make a noise, then start up again with the typing. John knew when the man was thinking, and also knew it was best to just go about his business and not try to get anything coherent from Sherlock.

  
A few hours later, Sherlock stood and shut his laptop. He turned to where John was sat, adding to his blog, and Sherlock lifted it from his hands. He settled down on his knees in front of John.

  
John smiled and ran his hands through Sherlock's hair. "Yes?"

  
"I've been doing some research." Sherlock started, his hand catching John's. He toyed with it absentmindedly while he continued. "And there are many things people imagine for us."

  
John felt his heart skip a beat. "Many things?"

  
"Yes. They have something called an Alternate Universe. Pretty self explanatory, a bit dull. But I found one that I think you and I could both enjoy." John raised an eyebrow. "One of them is very accurate, at least in our everyday lives. Except for one aspect." He linked his fingers with John. "It seems we are undercover. And I am a...bartender."

  
John almost laughed out loud at that. He tried to picture Sherlock in a pub, slinging beers at people and actually being nice. No rude comments. "What do we like about that one, then?"

  
Sherlock actually looked embarassed. "Well, in the story, I have to dress differently, and you seem to like it. Quite a bit, actually." Johns mind was racing at trying to think of what bartenders wore. Dark clothes, usually, which Sherlock wore almost all the time. Dark shirts, tight jeans--oh.

  
"Anyways," Sherlock pressed on, meeting John's eyes. "I found some clothing that I think would accurately fit the description given in the story. Just give me a second." Something twinkled in Sherlock's eyes as he stood, pressing a quick kiss to John's mouth before striding away.

  
John stayed sat there, a bit shocked at Sherlock's actions. He started thinking back to any bartender he had seen, but all he could think of were women. They wore dark shirts that showed cleavage and jeans that looked like they were painted on. He heard Sherlock's step in the hall and turned to see. What he saw almost took his breath away.

  
Sherlock stood there, looking so completely different that John was sure he would not recognize him on the street if he saw him. He had on a tight black tshirt that showed the light layer of muscle on his stomach, and tight dark jeans. He had drawn around his eyes with black eyeliner, causing their already unnatural color to seem even brighter. John knew his eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping open. He heard his heart beating in his ears as he stood and moved towards Sherlock.

  
"You look...Christ, Sherlock. You look so different." John touched Sherlock's bare arm, running his hand down it. Goosebumps broke out on the pale flesh as Sherlock's other hand moved to John's face.

  
"Good different?"

  
John laughed. "You know, it's a shame you bought all this."

  
Sherlock's face fell. "You don't like it?"

  
"God, no, that isn't it at all. It's just that I want to tear it off and it seems a shame to tear all those jeans." He moved in, standing on his toes to kiss Sherlock.

  
Sherlock gasped and pulled John tight against him. He turned the two of them so that John was against the wall, and John used the leverage to pull himself up and wrap his legs around Sherlock's waist. The new angle caused John to gasp, as it gave Sherlock the ability to move his mouth down his throat and nibble gently at his collarbone. John's head slammed back against the wall and he actually moaned, which surprised him. Sherlock looked up with a teasing glint in his eyes and he kissed along John's jawline, his ear, and back down his throat. John gasped for air as he pulled Sherlock's face up to his. Their kisses became more eager and they were barely breathing, they were so desperate. John's hands went to the hem of Sherlock's shirt and he felt bare skin and Christ he wanted this so bad--

  
The door slammed open, shocking them apart. John looked over Sherlock's shoulder and locked eyes with Greg Lestrade.

  
He let out a shout and pushed Sherlock away, forgetting that he was up against the wall. He slid down and his the ground with a solid thump that knocked the air out of him. Sherlock spun around and, in seeing Lestrade, gasped and ran down the hall. His door slammed and Lestrade just stood there, staring open mouthed at John. He knew what he must look like, his hair a mess and his mouth swollen. He stood and smoothed his shirt down, clearing his throat. "Hello, Greg."

  
He was met with a silence while Lestrade opened and closed his mouth, his brow furrowing. After a moment he laughed out loud. "I knew it was going to happen sometime, I suppose." He grinned at John, moving farther into the flat. "Where's he gone off to?"

  
"Probably to his room to change and rub off the--" he stopped and cleared his throat again. "Tea?"

  
Lestrade nodded and settled down onto the sofa as John moved around in the kitchen. After a few moments of awkward silence, John tried talking. "What did you mean, you'd been expecting this?"

  
Lestrade laughed again. "Honestly, John, it's been clear that you two were mad for each other since the first time you showed up. He actually listened to you, do you understand how strange that was? And then, you showed up again, which meant he hadn't scared you off and either you were afraid or attracted to him, so. I've been waiting for this for so long." John flushed.

  
"Well, thanks. I guess. But you know, people do knock sometimes." He set the mug next to Lestrade and sat down in his own chair. "Speaking of, what are you here for?" Lestrade held up a hand as he blew on his tea.

"Wait til Sherlock gets here." The two men sat in silene as they waited and a few moments later, Sherlock came into the iving room. His hair was no longer wild, his eyes were clean of makeup, and he was wearing a button down shirt and blazer. He cleared his throat and flung himself haughtily into the chair.

  
All three men were silent, and when it became clear that Sherlock was going to say nothing, Lestrade spoke. "Right. Well, uhm, we've found a body. Female, age eighteen, cause of death was shooting. She was shot twice, in the chest, close range. Signs of a struggle. But one thing is out of place."

  
John nodded, his heart clenching as he thought of the poor girl. "What's so unusual?"

  
"Well, she was miles away from her home. And she had a message written on her."

  
"What did it say?"

  
"Get Sherlock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfic I'm talking about in this is "Midnight Blue Serenity" by BeatifulFiction. Its a seriously amazing fic and you should read it if you haven't already. It does involve hella sexy Sherlock in tight jeans.

**Author's Note:**

> Right so this is probably gonna be multichaptered, I have all summer, but Im starting college soon [gah] so bear with me. Ill also keep updating Forget as often as possible xx


End file.
